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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25940305">Those Books, That Blue Dress</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicPlayer81/pseuds/MusicPlayer81'>MusicPlayer81</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gilmore Girls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen, Richard's always been head over heels for her, and Emily has always been the sharpest in the room</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:15:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25940305</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicPlayer81/pseuds/MusicPlayer81</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard Gilmore has a mountain of economics homework, but all he can think about is that girl in the blue dress. If only he could remember her name...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Emily Gilmore/Richard Gilmore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Those Books, That Blue Dress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Richard always said it was that blue dress that drew him to Emily, but I always like to think that he was so starstruck that it rendered him painfully awkward. I really wish we knew more about Richard and Emily's youth, so here is my contribution! Hope you all enjoy, please read and review :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>What was the use of going to the library? It wasn’t like that was going to do anything. Richard Gilmore may have economics problem sets and a history paper, but he only had one thing on his mind: Her.</p><p>He had been dragged into a residential college party by his fencing teammates. “Just because you’re engaged to Pennilyn Lott doesn’t mean you’re <em>dead</em>,” they said. And, well, he couldn’t fight that logic. Saturday night found him in the commons of his college, swiping brandy from the magister’s liquor case and smoking a fellow’s father’s cigars, playing like the men they were supposed to become. Just as he was about to launch into an animated debate about Homer, he saw Her. Her wavy brown hair flowed just past her shoulders, and black eyeliner highlighted her bright brown eyes.</p><p>And that dress? <em>That dress. </em>Navy blue, sleeveless, cut to show legs that went from here to Sunday.</p><p>He was left <em>speechless. </em>He barely stuttered out a hello as she and her friends walked around the room like they owned it, because they did. <em>She</em> did.</p><p>And he had been the dummy who had been so awestruck he hadn’t even learned her name.</p><p>Sighing, he pulled his books from the stacks and searched for an open seat. Table after table was filled, until he finally saw one seat, across from a girl surrounded by piles of books. She had brown hair tied up in a ponytail, and she wore a navy sweatshirt with <em>Smith College </em>emblazoned across the front in white cursive font.</p><p>“You’re a little far away from Northampton, aren’t you?” He said by way of greeting, sliding across from her.</p><p>“What can I say? I love nothing more than the drive up to New Haven.” She looked up nonchalantly as he pulled pen and paper from his leather messenger bag. “My college didn’t have the books I need for my term paper. And it was either I request them through the library exchange and hope they’ll arrive in time, or carpool up with a couple teammates and get a visitor’s pass to use them.”</p><p>“Teammates?”</p><p>“I’m on the field hockey team. You play sports?”</p><p>“I'm on the fencing team.”</p><p>“Hm.” She turned once more to her books, her fingers easily flicking over the pages.</p><p>“Why do you have a term paper?” He asked, jotting down notes.</p><p>She arched an eyebrow. “Believe it or not, we do learn things at Smith. Tell me you’re not another one of those dolts who thinks that all we do over there is curtsey and learn how to set a table.”</p><p>“What, that’s not what I meant, I—“ he sighed. “What are you writing on that’s brought you here?”</p><p>“European history. Catacombs of Paris, to be exact.” She nodded towards his tomes. “Economic theory?”</p><p>“It’s what makes the world go round.”</p><p>“Funny,” she hummed. “I thought it was people.”</p><p>Richard froze. Hadn’t that been a conversation topic on Saturday? “I’m sorry, have we met before?”</p><p>She clasped her hands together, her brown eyes leveling with his blue ones. “You’d don’t remember? Or were you too enamored with my blue dress?”</p><p>Oh my god. It was <em>her. </em>“I—I—“</p><p>“That’s what I thought.” She extended her hand. “So let’s reintroduce ourselves, shall we? I’m Emily Bishop.”</p><p>Richard paused for a moment, then took her hand. “Richard Gilmore. The pleasure is all mine.”</p><p>She smiled. “Oh yes. It is.”</p>
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